


Avengers in Acrylic

by falconeri



Series: The ABC's of the GRE's [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, GRE vocabulary, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falconeri/pseuds/falconeri
Summary: Steve Rogers doesn't look like a typical art student. Clean-cut, and looking like he just walked out of the Gap, he certainly doesn't look anything like the guy sitting next to him in his Drawing from Life class. But hey, maybe that's just part of his charm.Note 7/25- chapters in existence currently being re-worked for length and quality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the first work of the ABC's of the GRE's, I present an Avengers art school AU. As always, vocabulary words are bolded in the text, and the definitions can be found in the end notes. Title credit to my friend not on ao3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Steve Rogers, a freshman art student on the first day of classes. Meet Bucky, a snarky sophomore who wears sinfully tight pants. Meet Clint and Nat, who are also snarky and spend a lot of time together. Meet Coulson, the professor that thinks he's tough but is actually a softie. Yeah, this class is gonna go well... 
> 
> Chapter originally posted 6/30/19, updated 7/25/19 for length and quality (hopefully that's improved)

It was the first day of the new academic year, and freshman art student Steve Rogers was  **agog** to see what art school was truly like; he had heard myths, talked to current students when he visited schools, and read forum posts, of course, but that wasn’t quite like experiencing it with his own eyes. This was especially true for an artist, especially an artist like Steve that specialized in taking scenes from life and putting them onto a canvas. His entire future (hopefully) livelihood depended on his ability to be observant, and reading about something just wasn’t the same as seeing it.

He was also glad to be going to a school where he knew no one; he had lived in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn his entire life up until that point, and his schoolmates had always known him as the small asthmatic kid, who was out of school every other week due to some illness or another. It didn’t even matter when he had outgrown his asthma and bulked up at the beginning of high school, enough people still knew him as sickly Steve that the imaged followed. Now, though, no one knew that version of him; he was free to create the image that he wanted to present to his new classmates.

Getting dressed that morning had been a lot of deliberation, including a phone call to his mother, who told him he’d look handsome in anything. While he appreciated the compliment, that didn’t really help him out. He thought that art students were supposed to look… well, artsy. But what if that wasn’t the case and he dressed like a weirdo for no reason? That wouldn’t be very good for making friends. He eventually decided on a hoodie and baseball cap, because how could that ever not serve him well? He also decided to forego the contacts and wear his glasses instead. The chunkier black plastic frames spoke to a hipster vibe, so he could pull it off an a style choice, but were popular enough that he could totally just say they were comfortable, or something.

Because of his small wardrobe crisis, he ended up running a little bit late, and beelined to his first class of the day, Drawing from Life. While the class title sounded a little boring and routine, especially compared to the other classes he could have elected to take, he was looking forward to it. Already comfortable in the discipline, painting portraits was his favorite project, he had elected to take it because, one, it fulfilled a requirement, and two, it was a class he knew he’d enjoy. He was also looking forward to getting to build on his skills and hopefully be challenged.

He found the room easily enough, thanking the universe that he didn’t have to ask for directions, and entered the surprisingly drab classroom. The walls were painted a generic eggshell, and there wasn’t really any decor. The only proper furniture looked to be a handful of tables, pushed to the back of the room. The focal point of the room was the center, a ring of stools paired with drawing tables surrounded a raised platform with a special lighting set-up, where Steve assumed the model or still life would be stationed.

Despite running late, he entered the class about ten minutes before it was scheduled to begin, and found himself surprised at the fact that he was the only person present in the room, not even the professor had arrived. Glancing at his schedule, he confirmed that he was indeed in the correct room, and set about choosing his seat. He couldn’t figure out if any seat was better than another, so he chose one at random and sat down, opening his well-worn sketchbook and pulling out a pencil. For a while, the only sound in the room was the quiet scritching of pencil against paper as he sketched his surroundings with well-placed strokes of graphite. 

He was so absorbed in his sketch that he barely registered that another person had entered the room, and startled when said person took the stool next to his.  **Blithe** to the fact that Steve had just startled, the stranger turned to him and drawled, “Hey, I’m Bucky. Nice to meetcha.” Putting down his pencil, Steve turned to face the stranger, “I’m Steve,” he said, extending his hand to shake. The stranger, Bucky, Steve noted, looked like more of an art student than he did; long dark hair was secured in a bun, with pieces falling out and framing his face, and face lined with stubble, he was ever the foil to Steve’s short cropped hair and clean-shaven face. While Steve’s clothing looked like he had just walked out of the Gap, Bucky was wearing a band’s graphic tee, sinfully tight black skinny jeans, and a denim jacket emblazoned with patches. 

Steve startled again when he felt the press of metal against his hand, and took a second to stop analyzing Bucky (damn, would he love to draw him, though) to investigate. And, no, Steve was not imagining things, that was metal that he felt against his hand. Bucky had a metal prosthetic hand, at least, though Steve had no idea how far up his arm it extended. “Uh, sorry,” Steve stammered, pulling back his hand a feeling a blush rise up his face. 

Bucky just smirked, “Dude, don’t worry about it. It’s honestly no big deal,” he shrugged, then reached in his bag to pull out his pencils and sketchpad for the class. Once his supplies were on the table, he turned back to Steve, who was trying very hard not to start drawing the man on the spot. Bucky just smirked again, and  **artlessly** said, “I was in a train accident as a kid, it got amputated, now I get to rock a metal arm.” 

Unsure of how to respond, Steve tried to change the topic. “So, are you a first year too?” He asked, “Are you excited for this class?”

Bucky smiled, and Steve was delighted to see how genuine it seemed, maybe he made a friend already? “Nah,” Bucky said, a hint of a Brooklyn accent coming through, “I’ve been here a year already. As for this class? It’s alright, definitely not going to be my favorite though. Not my specialty.” At Steve’s confused look, he added, “I do graphic design stuff, mostly. You?”

Steve nodded, “Well, I’m a first year, which I guess I said already,” he felt the blush creeping up his neck again, “And this class is pretty much exactly what I do. Though I prefer paint over graphite or charcoal.”

His conversation was interrupted as other people flooded the room and started taking seats, Bucky apparently spotting someone he knew and waving them over. It ended up being two someones, and once they had set up, Bucky turned to Steve and got his attention. “Meet the wonder twins,” he said dryly, “Nat, Clint, this is Steve.” 

_ Wonder twins…? _ Steve probably looked confused, because almost immediately Bucky clarified. “These two yahoos spend almost every waking moment together. And sleeping moment too. They share an apartment.”

“Pretty nice place,” the blond, Clint, interjected. “You should come by sometime.” Steve found himself relaxing and smiled at the newcomers, he had been nervous about not making friends, but at least he seemed to be off to a good start. 

Bucky smirked (Steve noticed he seemed to do that a lot, and Steve really was very  _ very  _ okay with that), and said, “The professor for this class is Coulson, we had him last year for a different drawing class and Clint has the hots for the prof,” he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Clint didn’t refute the claim, instead just shrugging.

Nat chimed in, “Coulson likes to pretend that he’s tough,  **arbiter** of your grades, etcetera, but he’s really just a softie.” Bucky and Clint nodded their agreement, “So,” Nat started to say something, but was cut off by the professor clearing his throat.

“Welcome to Drawing from Life,” the professor stated, “I’m Coulson, your prof, and you can find your syllabus online. I’m not wasting time going over it, like some other professors might,” a few scattered laughs followed that statement. Steve noted that he did look tough, the  **austere** suit gave him a foreboding countenance and made him stand out compared to the students; he could only hope that Nat’s claim of him secretly being a softie was correct. “We’re going to hop right in, today’s model is a senior art student here,” he said, gesturing to a figure in the corner, “Tony, get yourself set up,” he instructed, “the rest of you, pull out your supplies. You’ll have twenty minutes to sketch each position, there will be three. Afterwards, we’ll pair off and you’ll critique one another.”

The model, Tony, dropped his robe and Steve found himself looking down at his sketchbook as if it held all the secrets to the universe. He wasn’t a prude, necessarily, just a little… shy. Coulson gave the model what Steve assumed were directions, he couldn’t really hear, and then Tony sprawled out on the platform.

Coulson nodded his approval of the positioning, and pulled out his phone. “And go,” he said, starting the timer for the first position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agog (adj.): very eager or curious to hear or see something  
> Synonyms: excited, impatient, in suspense
> 
> Arbiter (n.): a person who settles a dispute or has ultimate authority in a matter  
> Synonyms: authority, judge, controller
> 
> Artless (adj.): without guile or deception  
> Synonyms: candid, direct, forthright
> 
> Austere (adj.): having an extremely plain and simple style or appearance  
> Synonyms: unadorned, subdued, stark
> 
> Blithe (adj.): showing a casual and cheerful indifference considered to be callous or improper Synonyms: indifferent, unconcerned, blasé


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author tries to set up the other characters, and also is unsubtle about their love of clothing porn, apparently.
> 
> Originally published 6/30/19, edited 7/26/19 for quality (hopefully).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I really dig this AU and have come up with a plot for what was initially supposed to be a two-shot. So, meet the gang, and then we'll have some more plot next chapter. Including introducing Peter, eventually, I think.

In high school, Steve had always wished that his math class would fly by like it seemed his art classes always had. And if art school classes all flew by like this one, well, he’d certainly have a good time. Soon, he had completed three sketches of the model in different positions; due to time constraints they weren’t polished in the slightest, but Steve still felt pretty confident in his abilities. Coulson asked them to partner with someone else in the class for critique, and Steve internally panicked for a few seconds that nobody would want to pair with him. He saw Clint and Nat pair up instantly; did they ever talk about it or did they just assume they’d have each other? It seemed nice, he thought wistfully, before he saw Bucky turn to him and raise an eyebrow in question. Relieved that he wouldn’t be partnerless, Steve nodded, feeling pretty happy about the pairing. Turning towards Bucky they both put their sketchbooks side by side. “You first?” Steve asked, “Or do you want to go pose by pose?” 

Bucky nodded, “Pose by pose is good for me,” he said. Steve had about five seconds to get over his nervousness about showing his art to someone else (and an upperclassmen, nonetheless), before watching Bucky turn to look at the sketchbooks and doing the same. 

Bucky had already told him that he was a graphic designer, so Steve had assumed that Bucky’s work in graphite would be good, but not amazing. The art that Bucky handed him completely **confounded** that expectation, and he suddenly felt himself become nervous about his work that he was showing the other student. Steve was confident in his abilities; after all, he got into one of the premiere art schools on the East Coast, yet the drawing that Bucky placed in front of him was phenomenal. Light, quick strokes of the pencil had brought forth a figure that was somehow fluid, despite the model being in a stationary pose. Steve felt Bucky’s eyes on him and lifted his head, “this is amazing,” he said genuinely, “I mean wow.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, rubbing the back of his neck; that was a gesture that Steve had not expected to see from the student who had previously radiated complete self-confidence. “Yours is… incredible, really,” he smiled, “I mean seriously, your highlights and shadows are fantastic.”

Steve smiled, “Thanks. Your figure is amazing, it’s so fluid, it’s, I mean wow,” Steve continued to stammer, the back of his neck turning pink. He looked away from the sketchbooks again to catch Bucky smiling at him; the smile threw him off-guard, instead of the cocky smirk from earlier, this was a softer, fonder smile. Steve found himself smiling back, and resolved to draw that smile; it took all his impulse control not to pull out his other sketchbook and get to it already.

However, their soft smile fest as interrupted by their professor clearing his throat from behind them. They turned towards Coulson, and Steve noted that he held a poorly concealed amused face;  _ he definitely caught our goofy smiles,  _ Steve surmised, feeling his face heat. Fortunately, Coulson didn’t say anything about that, instead getting right to business.

“While I agree with your assessment of one another’s work, can you think of anything to critique; things that your partner could work on or improve?” Coulson asked before moving on to Nat and Clint. Steve noted that Clint pinked up immediately,  _ huh, he really did have a crush on the professor _ . Bucky caught his eye and smirked, letting him know he knew exactly what he was thinking, giving a small nod. 

Steve turned back to the paper in front of him and analyzed it carefully, “Your shadows are a little off,” he said, “not enough to notice unless you’re really staring at it, but it’s slightly shifted.” Bucky nodded, and wrote what Steve said down on a scrap sheet of paper. 

“Your highlights and shadows are amazing, but your model seems to be a bit rigid, which detracts from the lifelike-ness of it.” This time, Steve nodded, and pulled out a small pad of paper he kept in his pocket to scribble the note down.

The rest of the class passed in much the same way; just as they finished their critiques, Coulson got the class’s attention once more, and gave a little speech about how he was impressed with their work and couldn’t wait to watch them improve… Things that Steve thought was probably pretty standard professor stuff serving as a  **coda** to the class before officially dismissing the students. Steve stood up, stretched, and then put away his supplies before slinging his brown leather messenger bag over his shoulder. 

He was about to leave when he felt Bucky’s hand on his shoulder, and turned around to face the other student. “Hey, do you have a class right now?” Steve shook his head to indicate his negative response, “Cool, want to come hang with us?” Steve tried to remain externally calm whilst internally freaking out; upperclassmen wanted to hang with him! He might have friends! Bucky wanted to spend more time with him!

Trying not to sound like an idiot, Steve went with a simple “sure!” smiling brightly.Steve smiled brightly, following Bucky, Nat, and Clint out of the classroom. 

He continued to follow them to a courtyard area near the building, where they all dropped down to sit underneath a large oak tree. Clint was sitting against the trunk of the tree, with Natasha sitting directly in front of him, her back touching his chest, and his arms loosely around her shoulders. Steve marvelled at how comfortable the two were in each other’s company; hell, half the time they moved as if they were a single unit. It was impressive, and also a little creepy. 

Bucky set his backpack down and then lounged against it, looking effortlessly at ease. Steve took a seat but compared to his fellow students, his straight back and rigid posture screamed his nervousness. Plus, his mom had always instilled in him the importance of good posture. Fortunately, nobody seemed to care about Steve’s posture, and Clint brightly chirped, “You’ll get to meet the rest of our little gang!” 

As if to prove his point, two figures that had walked around the back of Steve dropped down to sit with the small group. One, Steve noticed, was Tony, the model from the class, who immediately said “We picked the all-American boy for our dodgeball team, I see,” in a sarcastic manner, though Steve could surmise that Tony’s remark was joking by the response of the group, which mostly consisted of fond smiles and shaking heads. Considering he had seen Tony’s… everything, not even a half hour ago, Steve blushed and looked away.

Tony saw what Steve was doing and laughed, “If you’re going to be awkward every time I model for one of your classes, that’s gonna really suck,” he said, with no further explanation. Steve guessed his confusion was pretty apparent by the way the student beside him rolled his eyes, explaining, “He models for a lot of classes. I’m Bruce, by the way, and the exhibitionist is Tony if you didn’t catch his name before.” Unlike Tony, who was loud and dramatic, Bruce was the opposite; he was softer, and seemed to be less sure of himself, yet the two appeared to be best friends.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve smiled and nodded at both, he was still a little awkward regarding Tony, but he liked this group of students, so he figured he should really get over that sooner rather than later.

Tony took that moment to more formally introduce himself, “Hey, I’m Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, at your service.” Steve thought that that was an awfully  **bombastic** statement, given that they were all art school students, which meant that they were pretty much worth nothing in the real world presently.

Bruce snorted, “Like I said earlier, I’m Bruce, and unlike this one, I don’t have enough money to be a billionaire or a philanthropist. I’ve got the starving artist thing down pat, though. What’s your story?”

“Uh,” Steve said, “I’m from Brooklyn-”

“Hey, same!” Bucky said brightly, “We’ll have to compare neighborhoods and schools later. Proceed.”

“I’ve wanted to be an artist since I was a kid. This is my first day of my first year here, and I’m excited to be here?” he said tentatively, getting nods to continue from his fellow students. “I mostly paint portraits and still lifes, but sometimes cityscapes...” He trailed off awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say, and feeling sort of stupid that he had volunteered what kind of artist he was when the other students clearly hadn’t. And he wasn’t going to act like a  **blowhard** , unlike Tony, who seemed very content bragging about himself.

“He forgot to mention that he’s really fucking good,” Bucky snorted, “We partnered in Coulson’s class today. Seriously, the guy has skills.” He paused for a second with an easy smile, “I said this to you earlier, I think, but this is my second year here, and I’m into graphic design. Specifically, things that incorporate digital drawings. And I like other things in that vein, too.” Steve figured that explained why his graphite drawings were so good for a guy into digital art. Bucky then looked towards Nat and Clint, “Wonder twins, do your thing,” he said.

Nat spoke first, “I’m Natasha,” she said, “But almost everybody just calls me Nat. I’m the same year as Bucky, and I do a lot of metalwork and glasswork sculptures and other things.” Steve didn’t really realize that was a thing people did at this school, but he was really interested in knowing more about it. “And I live with this idiot,” Nat nodded her head back at Clint, bumping his chest, who took the hint to start talking. 

“I’m Clint,” he said, “I’m the same year as Nat and Bucky, and I specialize in sculptures. Especially using found materials.” Steve noticed that Nat rolled her eyes at that, and he wondered why, but didn’t have time to ask before he saw Clint look to Bruce to continue the introductions.

Bruce sighed, “For the third time in the last ten minutes, I’m Bruce. I’m a third year here, same as Tony. I specialize in ceramics, and especially making and modifying glazes to get different results. It’s like a science,” he smiled; though Bruce was a little awkward and self conscious, Steve could tell that talking about his art brought him genuine pleasure.

“And I’m Tony,” Tony said, “Though that was established a few seconds ago. Like Brucie said,” Steve watched as Bruce rolled his eyes, “I’m a third year student. I work in digital art, fractals mostly, which are really math and compsci based.”

Just then, another person joined their group; this one had long blonde hair and a beard, was wearing a tank top and loose shorts, puka shell necklace, leather bracelets, and no shoes. Steve was instantly self conscious about his clothing choices once more, and discreetly looked around to see if everyone looked like this guy and Bucky; he didn’t think so, but then again, he was sort of overwhelmed and fashion wasn’t the first thing on his mind. Steve noticed that, while he didn’t quite fit the stereotype of art student that Bucky did, all of them had a very different sense of style and Steve didn’t stick out at all; something which he was  _ very  _ relieved about. In fact, his stereotype of what an art student was dressed like was  **confounded** by the eclectic nature of the group surrounding him.

Bucky had long hair, a man bun, a denim jacket with patches that had a retro vibe, painted chucks, and other clothing that screamed “artist,” as well as “I’m way cooler than you could ever hope to be.” Nat was artsy in a different way; her red hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing all black, the only pop of color other than her hair was her red hourglass belt buckle. Clint’s outfit, while less traditionally cool than Nat or Bucky’s, was no less artsy than Bucky’s; he had purple sunglasses resting on top of his head for the time being, a leather cuff bracelet with an arrow stamped into it, a loud purple flannel with sleeves rolled up, purple skinny jeans, and purple high top sneakers. Steve guessed that Clint _ really _ liked the color purple. Or that he color coded his outfit every day; he’d just have to wait for tomorrow to find out which, if any, theory of his was correct.

Unlike Clint, Nat, or Bucky, Bruce wasn’t dressed in an “artsy” way, but was literally dressed… well, artsy; his t-shirt and jeans were splattered with paint and glazes, as were his (at one point, probably) white chucks. And Tony… well, Tony looked like he belonged at art school…  _ or a rave _ , Steve mused. He had aviators sitting on his nose, and when he pressed a button, they lit up; he wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if those glasses were high tech. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt, showing off a glowing disk underneath, Steve had no idea what that was, but it looked cool, and tight mustard skinny jeans with red high top chucks.

Breaking him out of his muse of art school fashion archetypes, the surfer-type guy started speaking… at a much higher volume than expected; his voice was accented, too. “Hello, newcomer,” he said, “I am Thor.” Tony nudged him and filled him in on what the others were saying, and then Thor spoke again. “I am in my third year of schooling, like Tony and Bruce, and I specialize in drama and filmmaking. My roommate, Quill, is currently in class, but would prefer to be here, as per his last text. He specializes in sound art.” Steve had no idea what that was, but didn’t have time to ask, as yet another student stopped by.  _ What the heck _ , Steve thought,  _ this group is huge. How is it getting larger?  _ Thor spoke up again, saying, “this is our other roommate, and my younger brother, Loki. He’s a second year who  **deigned** to grace us with his presence,” everybody snorted at that.

Steve was confused, but didn’t even know how to ask what was going on. Fortunately, Bucky leaned over to him to explain, “Loki hangs out with us sometimes, but usually he has too much of a superiority complex to chill with lowly art school students. He attends the not art school, here, and thinks that that makes him better than us.” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

Loki started a conversation with Thor, Tony and Bruce broke off to talk to each other about something, Clint and Nat were… okay Steve just acknowledged that he’d probably never know what those two were thinking or doing. He didn’t have much time to analyze them, at any rate, because Bucky turned to him and struck up a conversation; Steve couldn’t help but be pleased that he was interacting with Bucky alone, though he knew that was more than likely just because everyone else was otherwise occupied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blowhard (n.): a person who blusters and boasts in an unpleasant way  
> Synonyms: boaster, bragger, show-off
> 
> Bombastic (adj.): hgh-sounding but with little meaning; inflated  
> Synonyms: pompous, blustering, turgid
> 
> Coda (n.): a concluding event, remark or section  
> Synonyms: ending, finale
> 
> Confound (v.): prove (a theory, expectation, or prediction) wrong  
> Synonyms: contradict, counter, go against
> 
> Deign (v.): do something that one considers to be beneath one's dignity  
> Synonyms: come down from one's high horse


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets everyone at dinner, and gets to know people better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah sorry, this is another filler chapter just sort of establishing the characters. Stucky is the end goal, here. It wasn't supposed to be, but they just sort of wrote themselves.

The advantage, Steve supposed, of immediately being “adopted” by a large group of friends, was that he wasn’t alone in any of his subsequent classes. Tony was in his graphic design class. Nat and Clint were in his sculpture class. Clint, he learned, not only was a sculpture artist with traditional materials, but also liked to incorporate himself and others into his sculptures. He liked to call it “found materials,” he explained that he was a performer raised by carnies, and liked to give a nod to that every so often in his art. Thor and Bruce were in his photography class, and he pretty quickly picked up what he thought could be unresolved sexual tension between the two. Maybe; he had always been a terrible judge of that, though. He had yet to meet Quill, and regrettably, Bucky was only in his drawing class. He found that he enjoyed the  **ethos** of the art school far more than he enjoyed the culture of his high school; not only was he more interested in his classes, but the people he met were interesting and, for the most part, very nice.

He met up with the same group for dinner that night at a local diner; he was sort of in love with the place, it was retro themed and had a functioning jukebox. Which was where he found Quill and introduced himself. Quill had brought his girlfriend too, Gamora, who was the child of one of the least-liked professors at the school. She seemed cool enough, though.

Quill and Gamora led him to what he learned was the group’s customary table, a large booth in a corner. He  **doffed** his jacket, hanging it on one of the hooks at the end of the booth, before sliding in. Happily, he noted that he was next to Bucky. Bucky gave him a wide grin, and the two jumped into conversation eagerly, with Bucky asking about Steve’s classes, professors, and other first years. He saw Nat exchange a look with Bucky in between a moment of conversation, an  **ephemeral** smug look that was gone almost as soon as he had noticed it. He wondered what that was about, but pushed it to the back of his mind; he’d ask about it later if it was still bugging him. 

Thor’s brother, Loki, and his sister, Hela, stopped by for dinner. While Steve had briefly met Loki earlier that day, he had yet to meet Hela. Who, he learned very quickly, was  _ terrifying.  _ A senior at the art school, she was actually two years older than Thor, but had spent a year before school travelling with family in Norway. Her specialty in art was printmaking, which Steve knew nothing about prior to hearing about it from Hela. Hela and Loki seemed to work well together, though, when it came to making fun of Thor. 

Steve found that Loki in particular was rather grating; he had a large superiority complex about attending “real school,” instead of the art school. However, as everyone else at the table was an art student, he had to feign interest. He added a few comments to the conversation here and there, but unlike the rest, who were genuinely interested in art, his comments seemed  **disingenuous** ; some of the comments he made even bordered on mocking, if his tone had changed. 

Tony came late to the meal, towing along with him an attractive redheaded woman. At Steve’s look of apparent confusion, she introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Pepper, I’m part of the business school.” Anticipating Steve’s question, she continued, “Tony and I knew each other in high school-”

Tony interrupted, “ _ Knew _ each other; what am I, chopped liver?!” he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Sorry,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes, “We were friends in high school. Now, we date.” The two of them apparently ordered the same thing every time they came, so the others had already ordered for them. 

If Steve was in love with the ambiance of the place, he was even more in love with their food. He had a reputation of eating a lot; to be fair, he worked out a lot too- it made sense that he’d need to eat more than the average individual. He had ordered the breakfast special, and was pleased to find that it was huge, and full of protein. 

He was also pleased with the conversation that surrounded him, finding himself hanging on to every word of the older students; after all, they had experience with his professors, knew cool spots, and otherwise had information he would have never known. And, while he had somewhat gotten to know them earlier, he was able to get a much better grasp on everyone’s personality. Bucky was pretty much the same as he was earlier in class. Nat and Clint were funny, finishing each other’s sentences every so often, and Steve appreciated Nat’s dry humor. Bruce was quiet, for the most part, while Thor was loud; the two made quite the pair and yeah, that was definitely unresolved sexual tension he had noticed earlier. Quill was goofy, Gamora was sort of scary with her ombre hair and goth fashion; she was really nice, but Steve still wouldn’t want to come to blows with her, that’s for sure. Pepper was organized and polite, while Tony was a mess; he was all over the place with ideas, had no filter, and was often  **facetious** \- he treated everything like a joke, no matter the subject matter, which sometimes got on Steve’s nerves.

The best part of dinner for Steve, though, was that he got everyone’s contact information. He was so worried that he wouldn’t make friends, and now here he had like ten new phone contacts. And they added him to a bunch of group chats too! All in all, Steve thought that it was a phenomenal day, and he knew he had made the right choice in attending this art school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disingenuous (adj.): not candid or sincere   
> Synonyms: dishonest, deceitful, duplicitous
> 
> Doff (v.): remove (an item of clothing)   
> Synonyms: lay hold of, take hold of
> 
> Ephemeral (adj.): lasting for a very short time   
> Synonyms: fleeting, passing, short-lived
> 
> Ethos (n.): the characteristic spirit of a culture, era, or community   
> Synonyms: character, atmosphere, climate
> 
> Facetious (adj.): treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor   
> Synonyms: flippant, glib, tongue-in-cheek


End file.
